


One Dick Grayson

by kikibug13



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Depressing, Ficlet Collection, Gen, New 52, Pre-Reboot, Reboot, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikibug13/pseuds/kikibug13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection for Dick Grayson drabbles/ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leather Jacket

**Author's Note:**

> The timing will likely jump back and forth, and ships of various flavors may yet appear.

It was truce, not peace, but Jason couldn't deny having proper resources was convenient. For now.

Like safehouses. Stocked and ready for him to break a hard patrol, regroup, do better.

Only tonight, slipping in through the window showed him Dick, curled up on the bed in uneasy, but deep sleep, a gash down his side freshly – going by the supplies scattered – stitched and bandaged. At least it didn't seem he'd passed out from pain. Just finished bandaging and fallen asleep. 

Jason stared, briefly. Then muttered, "dammit, Goldie," draped his leather jacket over the sleeping man, and stalked to shower.


	2. Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lament. A despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is definitely DCnU, set after Batman, Incorporated #8 and with some spoilery information pertaning to Red Hood and the Outlaws. 
> 
> Characters death referenced. 
> 
> Spoilers.

_I can't talk right now, Barbara._

He couldn't.

He couldn't think, either. 

There was always work to do, and Dick Grayson was sufficiently well-trained to do most of it without having to think at all. There was going through the motions, at least. 

He had lost. Everything. His last penny was blown up by the Joker. (He could draw on Bruce's money, but, no. That didn't count.) One of his brothers was in induced coma with his face burned off. Another was... acting in ways that just didn't add up. 

And the last one was dead and buried. 

His father, or what he had of one, was falling apart and was impossible to get through to. Alfred was at the end of his rope, and the _last_ thing he needed was one more person to have to take care of. 

Barbara was no less broken than the rest of them. 

He had lost everything and he couldn't bear to think about that. And everything that his thoughts rambled on came back to the entire mess. It suffocated him. 

So he tried not to think. 

He tried not to fuck things up, too, because Damian had asked him, told him, to mind himself and not let the fuckers win, and they'd won, anyway, but Dick couldn't give them more.

Well, no. He could. 

He shouldn't. 

Such a weak word. 'Should.' Hopeful, too, like anyone cared. Dick was out of hope. He was out of people who cared, too, come to think of it. Damian had cared, but Damian was gone, because Dick's shoulds were never good enough. Not for his parents. Not for Raya. Not for his circus. Not for his brothers.

What did he even think he was doing?

Well. He didn't. Or tried not to. Going through the motions was something he was an expert in and now was no different. 

He might think that there wasn't anything left, but, no. The world was right there. Turning as it had a month ago, a year ago, a century ago. Filled with its wonders and its murders.

It was only that there wasn't anything left to Dick Grayson. He had nothing left to give, nothing left to take. Gutted out. Making not a whit of difference, in the end. 

He didn't even have tears left to cry. There was never anything in him worthy of crying for--

Any of them.


End file.
